


A Hint of Something Red

by Octarine



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, It could be taken as either, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Quadrant Confusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:20:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octarine/pseuds/Octarine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s beautiful but her desire to be seductive ruins it all. She doesn’t need to reveal so much, she’s beautiful and desirable without it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hint of Something Red

**Author's Note:**

> Practice/drabble I guess? Hopefully it’s not too horrid.

Her smooth skin is too white, stretching on for miles and decorated with curls of black and smoky grey. It’s dangerously exotic and whenever you are around her you aren’t certain if staring would offend her or if, being who she is, she would like it, eat up the attention. Her hair is like cascades of ebony, black as the night that she is not a part of. You can remember how her eyes used to gleam, silvery-grey shifting to instead sparkle like emerald, framed by thick black lashes. Her lips are full and set in a permanent pout, ruined by the piercing she has gotten there, but you keep thoughts like that to yourself because they would offend her and you don’t want her thinking that her beauty affects you, too. Her high brows, decorated with the golden rings similar to Meenah’s, are thin and delicate over those sharp eyes of hers that have now turned as milky white as her skin.

She’s beautiful but her desire to be seductive ruins it all. Her movements are like water, they are smooth, her hips swinging just enough to not be ridiculous but to draw you in. She reminds you of a snake, a beautiful temptress, but still dangerous. Her legs, never hidden by the silk of her dress, are more miles of milky white, sometimes bright, sometimes dull, it just depends. Her dress dips too low in the front as well as in the back. She doesn’t need to reveal so much, she’s beautiful and desirable without it all.

You don’t tell her these things, not at first, but you aren’t one to keep your thoughts to yourself especially when you think you know how to say them in a way that will not offend. You catch her when she’s alone and you decide that perhaps it is time to tell her these things. To tell her that she really looks ridiculous with all of this nonsense and with her little show, after warning her of all of the triggers that would be involved which simply made her roll her eyes, of course, and as soon as this is out she’s rearing back, fangs bared and long fingers curling up into fists. She tries to cut you off but you plow on, telling her how she would be fine and capture just as many hearts if she didn’t bother with such nonsense. That you think she would be even prettier without all of these ridiculous piercings and tattoos. She looks a bit offended still, drawn away, but she does not object, she allows you to continue on. You tell her all of the thoughts that have been on your mind and she listens, or perhaps she’s just too shocked to really object.

You continue to speak until she steps forward, leaning in too close to be comfortable and you just managed to say her name before her lips are brushing your own, the metal a shockingly cold contrast to the heat of your skin before her lips are truly on yours. You are about to say something, trying to pull back, to tell her that this does not mean that she has captured your heart like she has so many others, but the kiss lasts only a moment. Chaste and soft, not sensuous and over the top like everything else about her. It’s borderline pale really but there’s a hint of something more, a hint of something red. Then again, everything she does has a hint of something red, it’s impossible to be sure that it actually meant anything.

She smiles down at you as if you are missing something and cups your cheek in her hand, her eyes, although milky white, softening into something warm and motherly. It is a rare act of love that is not tough, that is not sharp and cold, like a snake. “Thank you, my Insufferable.” Her voice is as smooth as silk, like her movements, like her dress. It’s usually cold, icy and bitter, but there’s a hint of fondness in it now that you cannot ignore.

You blink owlishly up at her. “You’re welcome, I suppose. It really wasn’t meant to be a compliment-“

“Don’t ruin it now.” She adds quickly, giving your cheek a quick pat and rolling her eyes.

You may pity her, just a little.


End file.
